


back to the bright side

by euphemea



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Fluff, M/M, Post-Time Skip, Pre-Relationship, happy birthday sylvain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:02:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24549583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euphemea/pseuds/euphemea
Summary: It’s been five days.Five days since the reclamation of Fhirdiad. Five days to recover from the brutal bloodshed of Cornelia’s last stand. Five days of tears, of joy, of celebration.Five days of being home after five years of nothing but war.~~The Blue Lions celebrate Sylvain's 26th birthday during the war.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Sylvain Jose Gautier & Everyone
Comments: 18
Kudos: 88





	back to the bright side

It’s been five days.

Five days since the reclamation of Fhirdiad. Five days to recover from the brutal bloodshed of Cornelia’s last stand. Five days of tears, of joy, of celebration.

Five days of being home after five years of nothing but war.

The tide is turning, and there’s finally a light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. It’s a released breath, a weight off their shoulders, a step toward the peace Fódlan has yearned for since long before Sylvain was born, those twenty-six years ago.

If you’d have asked Sylvain six months ago how he thought he’d be spending his birthday, he’d have said that it would have been like the last five—bloodied, beaten, the well of his faith in humanity long run dry but somehow still emptier than it had been the day before. Not that it matters. No one celebrates birthdays in wars. You count the days by the lives you take, and you live by being just the slightest bit more desperate than your enemies. That’s still true, even in the wake of their momentous victory.

But look at them now.

Dimitri’s back, as much as he can be, the kind prince Sylvain had grown up with unearthed from his mountain of ghosts. He stands tall, his regalia more becoming and less burdensome, his hand steady as he raises it to his crowds. They’re not out of the woods yet, not by a long shot, not with Dimitri’s anger still so near, but Sylvain can finally envision him as the king he’ll one day serve. He’s no longer the vengeance-sworn madman at whose beck and call Sylvain will inevitably fall.

Dimitri stands at the head of their troops, laying out their next steps. Tomorrow, they begin their march to Derdriu, ready to meet Claude’s plea. It’s a detour from their inevitable arrival in Enbarr, and Sylvain has to say he’s glad. It wouldn’t be like Dimitri to abandon a friend, and if he had, it would have been another resigned nail in the coffin to Sylvain’s eventual reluctant ascendance to his role as Margrave Gautier. So it's good, for many reasons, that they're extending that hand to those in need.

Hope shimmers in the late spring air as Dimitri speaks, carried on a welcome breeze. Around them, Fhirdiad’s few, hardy blossoms battle for their right to shine, drowned on all sides by the city’s devastation at the hands of Cornelia and her Titanuses. Those flowers are a bit like their army. Tough, tempered by adversity, bruised and battered and bleeding but not beaten.

It’s a nice metaphor, and it’s a shame that it’s one Sylvain hasn’t had the chance to use on any ladies. He’ll have more chances going forward.

Around him, his battalion begins clapping, and he focuses his attention in time to see Dimitri adjourn their meeting with a nod. Their future king sweeps away, stepping aside to speak to Byleth. There's something regal and calming about how they lead together.

There’s a tap against Sylvain’s shoulder, and he turns to see Ashe giving him a sheepish grin.

“Hey, Ashe. Can I help you with something?”

Ashe shakes his head. “Not exactly? Come with me.”

“Sure thing. Whatever you need, bud.”

Ashe sighs. “I don’t know why they had to send me.”

Sylvain frowns, but follows obediently. Ashe leads them a short ways away to where Mercedes, Annette, Ingrid, and Dedue are huddled around… something, and Felix stands off to the side, arms crossed.

“What’s all this?”

Annette jumps slight, but turns to face Sylvain, beaming. “Oh, there you are!” She claps her hands together enthusiastically. “Stay right there for a moment. And close your eyes.”

“O…kay?”

“Sylvain, please!”

Mercedes lets out a small giggle. “Best to just do what Annie says, Sylvain.”

Sylvain shrugs, slipping his eyes shut.

There are some shuffling noises around him, muted whispers and the distinct sound of Annette hissing “Felix!”, before a pause and a collective breath.

“Happy birthday, Sylvain!”

Sylvain jolts at the sudden burst as they all shout, his eyes snapping back open. Annette’s voice carries the loudest, bright and sunny like it’s been ready to burst out of her all day. Dedue’s usual low rumble reaches up to a baritone as he projects, half-amused. Sylvain didn’t know Dedue had it in him. Ingrid and Ashe stand side by side, twin images of exasperation and fondness. Mercedes, as ever, is sweet but firm, ripping Sylvain right to the core. Felix is the quietest, the most reluctant, and when Sylvain tries to catch his eyes, he scoffs and looks off to the side.

In front of Sylvain, Annette holds out what looks like a galette, Mercedes wielding a knife beside her. Behind them, there’s a rickety setup for could be called a table.

“I know it’s not much, but we found what we could in the palace kitchens and pulled this together for before we start marching!” Annette says, her voice hopeful.

“It was a bit difficult finding butter…” Mercedes says mournfully. “But we made do with what we could find.”

“The apples were a little challenging, too,” Ashe adds.

“None of this would have happened if Felix hadn’t reminded us two days ago that your birthday was coming up.” Ingrid nods at Felix.

Felix tsks. “It’s not my fault none of you can remember anything.”

“Annette and Mercedes worked very hard on this,” says Dedue. “So we should enjoy it before it gets too cold.”

Mercedes waves at something over Sylvain’s shoulder. “Come join us! Professor, Dimitri.”

Sylvain turns to see Dimitri and Byleth approaching, the assembled troops still slowly dispersing behind them.

“Happy birthday Sylvain,” Dimitri says, clapping a hand to Sylvain’s shoulder. Behind him, Byleth nods their assent.

“Thanks, Your Highness. Or, is it Your Majesty now?”

Dimitri shakes his head. “I’m not crowned yet. You should continue to call me Dimitri.” He turns an eye on his gathered generals. “All of you.”

There’s a round of scattered gazes and missed eye contact, complete with minor fidgeting from Ashe. The awkwardness lasts for a heavy beat.

Annette sets the galette down on the makeshift table and claps her hands together. “Let’s dig in!”

“There’s nothing like a bit of sweetness to brighten the prospect of a long march,” Mercedes says, leaning in to cut a slice. She wraps it in a cloth and hands it to Sylvain. “Happy birthday, Sylvain.”

“Thanks, Mercedes.” Sylvain salutes her and she laughs, waving him off as she returns to her task.

The others shuffle up one at a time to receive their slices of the cooling pastry, Mercedes cheerfully catering to them all. Sylvain takes a bite. It’s good, especially given Faerghus food and the difficulty in finding ingredients. Sweet but not overpowering, crisp, and with a buttery crust that can almost melt on the tongue. It’s a rare treat on their campaign, and Sylvain is more than a little in awe of the fact they bothered at all. Mercedes’s birthday had been just last week, and they’d been so busy with battle preparations that she’d gotten nothing more than tea with Byleth and Annette and flowers from everyone else.

Sylvain wanders over to Felix as he chews, his arm extended. Felix waves off the pastry. “I don’t like sweets.”

“I know, I know. Just thought I should offer anyway.”

“Just eat it yourself.” Felix's gaze isn't hard, but he's not meeting Sylvain's eyes either.

Sylvain takes another bite. “It’s good.”

“I’m sure.”

Sylvain sighs, dropping an elbow onto Felix’s shoulder. “So, you’re the one who remembered, huh? I honestly forgot until this morning.”

“The Professor did as well.” The Professor is currently shoving their slice into their face whole, a testament to their appetite from their time at the Officer’s Academy.

“Yeah, they’re weirdly good at remembering people’s birthdays.” Sylvain leans his head against Felix’s, and _something_ flutters in his chest when Felix doesn't flinch or make to move away. “Hey. Thanks for this.”

“Whatever. You would have done the same for me.”

Sylvain lets out a laugh. “I didn’t need to, we were still at the monastery and Annette remembered all on her own.”

Felix cracks a smirk. “She made such a mess of the kitchen.”

“Even when everything was still hopeless just those few months ago, that was a pretty good day.”

“It was.”

“And now… We’ve got Faerghus back, mostly. We’re not desperately holding on, watching our backs for when Dimitri decides that we’re better as cannon fodder than alive.” Sylvain drops his hands to brush off the crumbs, tucking the napkin into his belt to return to Mercedes later. The others are finishing their snacks too, dusting off and getting ready to settle for one last night in Fhirdiad. “I’m glad to have him back, even if…”

“It’s hard to trust him again.”

“Yeah.” Sylvain shrugs. “Things are finally looking up, y’know? Don’t want to jinx it.”

“You won’t. You couldn't if you tried. As much as I hate relying on others, the Professor has shown that they’re capable.”

“Mmm, I suppose they have.”

Felix turns, facing Sylvain. His eyes dart about as they fail to meet Sylvain’s. “I’m only going to say this once.” His gaze finally catches. “We’ve made it this far, so don’t die on me now.”

A smile creeps onto Sylvain’s face unbidden. “Right back at you. The end’s close now—so close I can almost feel it.” Sylvain sighs. “We’ve been doing this for so long, I almost forgot what hope was like.”

“Don’t get sloppy.”

“I won’t. After all, I’ve got you here to keep me in line, right?”

Felix turns away, satisfied. “I’ll watch your back, and you’ll watch mine. I'll trust you.” He glances at Sylvain again out of the corner of his eye. “Hey, Sylvain?”

“Yeah?”

“Happy birthday.”

Sylvain can't help the way something inside him melts. “Thanks, Felix. Really.” He looks up at Fhirdiad's turrets. “Here's to many more.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter [@euphemeas](https://twitter.com/euphemeas)


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